Cato had thought about staying away, changing his mind several times. But he knew he couldn't. As he entered the building, he jostled his way through the people crowded around the room, talking in whispers.
Tributes always got large funerals in District 2, he knew that, but the room was practically bursting there were so many people here today. This made him angry. Only a handful of them had actually known her, the rest were merely wanting to get a last glimpse of the fallen District 2 tribute. The girl who could have been the victor.
He approached the long shiny wooden box at the front of the room. A few of the people next to it recognized him and quickly shuffled away. It was strange, he thought, as he looked down at the girl who lay in the coffin. It was almost as if she were asleep, as if she'd wake up at any second and ask why she were in a box, in a room full of people.
But there was that unmistakable tinge of death surrounding her now. Her skin so pale and grey. Her eyelids shut, concealing what he knew to be the brightest emerald green eyes that would never look at him again. Her lips faded from pink that would never laugh at him again.
He had let her die, he thought. It had been his fault. And he would spend the rest of his life trying to make sure the memories of her never left him. It was easy to remember certain things, sounds or images. The sound of laughter as she walked away from him. A zing of a knife ending in a thwock as it hit the target. A flash of green eyes shining from beneath a veil of dark brown hair.
But the echo of her screaming his name and the horrible silence that followed after was the most haunting of all.